


Buir de Krayt

by EAVanGeek



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Force Bond (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Original Character(s), Other, Past Abuse, Sith Code, Sith Shenanigans, Sith Training, Slavery, Tatooine Slave Culture, The Force
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-01-14 21:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EAVanGeek/pseuds/EAVanGeek
Summary: CONTENT WARNING::: THIS DOES NOT START OUT AS A HAPPY STORY! AND IT WILL MOST LIKELY NOT END AS A HAPPY STORY!Shmi Skywalker, the mother to the Chosen One. A woman meant to be forgotten, to never be saved. But The Force works in mysterious ways- and it needs a seed.This is... self-indulgent as hell. When I was but a baby-faced child, I came up with an idea. Now I'm older and a better writer, so I'm finally going to start writing it up. I do not have an ending planned- but I do have an idea of how this story might end.





	1. Little Seed

Shmi Skywalker had been many things in her life. A daughter. A mother. A slave. A married woman. But never free. 

 

Cliegg was a good man, a kind man. He offered to free her- and marry him. One set of chains for another. It was not uncommon, really. She had friends who had dreamed of being freed, of marrying the one who broke their chains, maybe to one day fall in love.

 

It never happened. Cliegg was a good man. He was kind, he was gentle. And Shmi took care of him, took care of his children, worked the moisture farms alongside him, broke bread and shared a bed with the man. But she did not love him. There was pity in his eyes every time he caught a glimpse of the scar where her microchip had been. She pitied the widower, everytime she laid with him, let him kiss her and whisper her name in the dark. He called out for a different woman when he was asleep. Shmi knew this, and did what she does best. She kept quiet.

 

Then the Tuskens came, early in the morning. The took her, and she did not scream out. Beru did, Owen and Cliegg running out. Shmi watched from where she had been strapped to the back of a speeder, saw Cliegg scream out for her, saw him fall as a sniper blast took his right leg. A small part inside her wanted call out, to feel something for the man who freed her. She did nothing, just watched as Owen fell back, Cliegg crying out as the suns started to rise higher and higher.

 

It was dark now. Shmi had been here for three days and four nights. She knew only because the heat would die and the cold of the desert would take over. The Tuskens would chatter, speaking in their foreign tongue, occasionally signing to one another in the quiet. If she had Threepio, she would be able to understand. But thinking of the droid brought back memories of her son. 

 

Her son, little Ani. Was he doing okay? Was he happy? Everyday the emptiness in her ached to know how her son was. It was worse than any kind of pain the Tuskens could give her. The hot metal on her skin, screeching out, one raider who knew Basic asking broken questions. Shmi said nothing, did not cry out. They did not give her water. They gave her no food.

 

Three Days.

 

Four Nights.

 

She was going to die here. Far away from the Lars house, from Threepio. From Anakin. She licked her dry lips, the metal chains cutting into her wrists. Blood began to drip down her wrists, the hot liquid causing her to shiver in the cold.  _ Please.  _ She prayed.  _ Please keep my son safe. _

 

* * *

 

Darkness. 

 

Shmi was shrouded in Darkness. It wasn’t warm- but the cold of the desert wasn’t here either. She wandered into the Darkness, the pain and numbness in her limbs gone. Every step was a struggle, like wading through thick mud from one of the few rain storms that came to Tatooine. 

 

Mud is healthy, it’s fresh and brings life, let’s plants grow but this… this was not that kind of mud. It clung to her legs, dragged her down with every struggle. The air was stale, rancid, it clung to her and refused to give in, to move when she did. It was becoming harder to breathe, harder to keep walking. But she needed to walk- had to.

 

**_Little Seed._ **

 

Thousand of voices called out. The emptiness inside was filled all at once. Dread, Fear, Anger, Frustration, Rage, Pity, Sadness. Suffering. Shmi tried to call out, to answer, to scream! But the air was too thick, she had to focus on moving ahead… she had to keep going.

 

**_Why do you struggle, Little Seed?_ **

 

_ Why _ ? Shmi pulled at the mud; it dragged her down, her skirts weighing so much. So she pulled them off, used the cloth to climb up to the top. The Suffering slammed into her, tears in her eyes. Her skin started to shine, bare legs and feet already being caked in the Darkness once more. But she kept moving ahead, towards… something.

 

**_You deserve to rest, Little Seed. Stop fighting, accept your Fate._ **

 

_ NO _ ! Shmi stumbles, her hands falling into the Darkness. It takes nearly all her strength to pull herself out again, shirt tearing, the sleeves escaping further downwards. One last push and she’s crawling forward. There, a dim light, so faint that it flickers in the distance. Shmi stands up again, running towards that light.

 

**_Do you think you can be saved, Little Seed?_ **

 

Shmi was saved. By Anakin, and then by Cliegg. The light was not getting any closer, but the Suffering grew louder, the whispers turning into screams, whimpers turned into cries. The air was forcibly pulled from her lungs, what little clothing she had left, gone. She was bare, her skin trying to shine through the Darkness as it coated her body. It was hard to focus on the flickering light when her own skin was giving off a glow.

 

**_Do you want to live, Little Seed?_ **

 

One light suddenly became thousands- but none were as bright as the first. They shifted from dark blue to harsh red, never once a warmth coming from them. She stumbled again, the Darkness reaching up to trap her. Shmi reached out for the first light, tears streaking down her face, her teeth gritting through the Darkness and Suffering.

 

**_Why do you continue to fight, Little Seed?_ **

 

Two eyes opened, galaxies staring at her. The light she had been chasing sat in between yellow and red eyes. The Darkness dripped down- it’s source was the jaws of the creature in front of her. 

 

The creature was massive, it’s body revealed as Shmi sank further and further into it. She refused to lose, pulling at the Darkness, fighting against it. The creature, those thousands of voices crying out, the Darkness that dripped off its body, a skull of a great beast slowly revealed. 

 

The light was never a light- it was the skull of this creature, this monster, white like the midday suns. Shmi forces herself to move, chest deep in this Darkness, in this body of the beast.

 

**_You are much stronger than I thought, Little Seed. Perhaps… You have a use yet._ **

 

Shmi felt the Darkness crawl into her mouth, the Suffering echoed in her bones. All that was uncovered were her eyes and one hand. Then creature shifted, it’s massive size morphing into something… almost human. 

 

Red hair that fell across one side of the face, most of which was tied back, waving in some unseen wind. The eyes remained the same, the Darkness a black cloak that wrapped around an unseen body. Burning charcoal for hands, lips that were cracked and dry, the blood black and pulsing at the surface of the skin. Feet that were clawed, walking towards Shmi. The Suffering became armour, harsh iron and silver on it’s arms and neck. Shmi tried to call out, but the Darkness was in her lungs, filling her everywhere.

 

**_Little Seed._ ** The creature-the woman-  _ no _ . Shmi knew, somehow. This was a Sith. It smiled, pearly white teeth razor sharp, the inhumanness peeking out.  **_You do not want to die… but fate would have you murdered here. Your son would hold you one last time, and you would die. But… you don’t have to._ **

 

The Sith held out one burning hand, the icy heat so close to Shmi’s own outstretched hand. Yellow eyes met brown. It waited. Shmi was suffocating, but then the Darkness left her body, the Suffering grew quiet. It retracted as she grasped the Sith’s hand, standing on her own two feet once more.

 

Shmi looked down, saw that she was wrapped in the same cloth as The Sith. She felt her throat- no collar. She looked down at ankles and wrist- no chains. There was no armour on her, no jewelry. Instead her skirts were threaded with iron and silver, a thousand stars across her chest, galaxies born and destroyed on her skirts. Shmi Skywalker looked up at the monster in front of her.

 

**_Join me, Little Seed. I will not let you die here._ **

 

Shmi took a deep breath, a shaky exhale. Then another. And another.

 

* * *

 

The camp shook. An earthquake? No… no this was something worse. The Tuskens screamed out, one word that Shmi knew in their language repeated over and over.

 

_ Wyrm! Desert Wyrm! _

 

Shmi waited for her captors to drag her out, to weigh her down and toss her body to whatever beast had decided to attack the camp. They did not get the chance. 

 

The small hut was thrown up into the air, the stars above nearly blinding Shmi as she fell through the night sky. The chains on her wrists were shattered, metal hovering in the air with her.

 

A white bony claw grabbed her, wings beating in the air. Then there was the Tusken war cry, a party of raiders taking positions from the ground. Shmi clung to the claw that held her, followed with her hands as bone became slick fur and feathers. Then there came the horrendous screech of the creature above her. It drowned out everything, the stars above grew dim because of it. Shmi hid her face in the fur- and smell the Darkness from her dream.

 

She did not open her eyes to watch as the carnage unfolded. One swoop and sand blew up into the air. An attack from the ground and glass began to form where lightning struck. A smell that Shmi had never smelled before, burnt ozone and blood, blending together in a heady mixture. The creature landed, clutching Shmi to it’s chest as it roared again.

 

Shmi did feel sad for the Raiders. This was their way of life, to pillage and take. It was the only way they knew how to survive. But this monster killed them all with a flap of its wings, the sand and air whisked away in a second. She heard them choking, the women screaming out to their children. The monster took a step forward- Tatooine shook from the impact.

 

Shmi took a small glance up, and past the feathers and sickly fur, she saw the skull of the creature. Red and yellow eyes that were filled with a fury she had never known. Fangs that curled every which way, horns that spread out from it’s crown and twirled in on themselves. The massive twin tusks that started as molars, only to somehow grow through the lower jaw, to bend out and curve back in, the tips charred and burning from some fire inside. The fire from the carnage illuminated the blood red mane, leather black skin that was scarred and had yet to grow the oil-slicked fur back. But the skull was bare, the only flesh were the Sith eyes.

 

The monster looked right at her, and even with no lips, she knew that it grinned. It opened it’s jaws again, screaming out at the camp. Wings of black leather and unkempt red feathers spread out, blocking out the night sky. Shmi then cried out for the first time in days.

 

“Don’t kill them! Please!” It was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

 

The creature stopped in its tracks. The Tuskens whimpered as the massive creature put down their prisoner, leaning it’s skull down to look at the woman.

 

**_Little Seed… why do wish for them to live?_ **

 

“They’ve done nothing wrong. All they did was try to survive.”

 

**_They tortured you. They were going to kill you, eat you for dinner and leave your bones to crumble in the sand._ **

 

“That’s a natural thing in the desert. People die, every day. All they wanted was some food and water.”

 

**_They should die for trying to harm you!_ **

 

“They did nothing wrong!”

 

**_PROVE IT!!_ **

 

The voices filled her head, but she heard the chattering of its teeth, the deep guttural growls. Shmi looked over her shoulder, saw the Tuskens staring right back at her. She sighed before answering.

 

“They were here long before either of us. This is their home- we are the invaders in their eyes. They did nothing wrong. Please… please leave them alone. Take me instead.”

 

**_You would sacrifice yourself… for people who do not care for you?_ **

 

“Yes.”

 

**_… I see. Well, Little Seed... shall we go?_ **

 

Shmi nodded, putting a hand on the skull, keeping one hand on the creature as she walked back to it’s clawed hand. The bones wrapped around her body before moving her into the mane. Shmi saw the destroyed Tusken camp, the strewn bodies littering the sand. The survivors watching as she and the monster left, two massive steps later and the camp was gone.

 

The twin suns were not far off, the coldest part of the night upon them. Shmi was  _ tired _ , resting her head down into the red mane. It smelled of ozone and blood, of the Darkness from her dream. It should be nauseating- but it wasn’t. She grabbed fistfuls of the slick fur, drifting off to sleep.

 

She woke up hours later, inside a cave. The beast had shrunk, the wings no longer existing, it’s body the size of the actual  _ Sand Wyrm _ . Shmi had been tucked into its side, resting on its hind legs. The clawed feet were just like The Sith from her dream- black and smoking faintly, clawed with talons burning from a fire inside of it. 

 

A crunching sound, followed by a sickening slurp. Shmi blinked awake, aware that she was watching her savior eat a rotting carcass. The leg shifted, claws flexing, cradling her closer to its belly.

 

“Why did you save me?” Shmi asks. Her throat is dry, head spinning as she tried to get up, only to fall back down again.

 

The Beast looked back, red and yellow eyes staring. One bone claw reached out, dragging something closer to Shmi. It was a bowl, some kind of grain and overripe fruit… and a full sack. Shmi drank slowly, whimpering the moment water hit her tongue. The food disappeared shortly after, but she savoured the water. The creature finished it’s meal, broken bones shoved out of the cave’s mouth.

 

Shmi watched as the beast turned on it’s side, neck stretched out, the skull far away from her. It had exposed it’s belly to her, black leather covered in scars, patches of sickly red feathers and oil covered fur. Shmi rested her forehead on the belly, felt the creature breath. Rain fell somewhere far away. Or was the sound the beast snoring? 

 

The next few times she woke up, they would have moved. The beast always had food for her, the water sack was always refilled. She would ask a question, and the beast would say nothing. Only eat, sleep, and watch over Shmi.

 

Now the sun had set; a week since she had been taken from the Lars house. The mouth of the cave they were in looked over the Tusken Raiders who had taken her. The beast watched, like a statue. Shmi stood next to it. They watched the people below rebuild, the men going out for a raid as the women collected water. Shmi clutched her own water sack. She didn’t know why they had come back here- or had they ever left? The last few days had been a blur. Finally, the beast spoke, a thousand voices filling Shmi’s mind.

 

**_You are not there Little Seed. But you are to die in your son’s arms tonight._ **

 

“So now you decide to speak to me.”

 

**_You needed your strength before we tried this again._ **

 

“... Is Ani-”

 

**_Hush, Little Seed. The Chosen comes, for his mother._ **

 

The sun set. An hour later there were screams in the village. Shmi squinted, then gasped at what she saw. It was Anakin, but not. Dark browns and light blue cutting through the bodies below. Children ran but were slaughtered. Mothers pleading for mercy- but all were cut down. The sand swirled, something inside Shmi ached. That was her son, she need to be down there!

 

“Ani… Oh Anakin.” Shmi cried, hiding her face in the red mane.

 

**_Well done, Little Seed. You are alive… but The Chosen has been sown. Now we wait to see what is reaped._ **

 

“Why?” Shmi cried out. “Why did he do this?”

 

**_They hurt his mother. But he is no longer your son._ **

 

“Anakin is a good boy, he would never-”   
  


**_Look! Look with your mortal eyes, see the sin that has been committed. They would have died, be it by his hand… or ours. But you, Little Seed, stopped us. Now I ask, what will you do now?_ **

 

“I- I don’t… I don’t know.”

 

The beast sighed, watched impassively as Anakin screamed out in the middle of the desert. It closed its eyes, the gaunt and sickly visage changing in the darkness. Oil-covered feathers became white, the oil seeping into the black leather. Puckered scars healed properly, the red mane shook, the fur looking healthier than it has in years, decades. It opened its eyes- for a brief moment the red and yellow was gone, but it came back just as quickly.

 

**_Little Seed. Join me._ **

 

“... Anakin.” Shmi was still crying.

 

**_Join me, and we can save your son. Together._ **

 

Shmi wasn’t looking at the beast. She shed tears at hearing her son’s cries of pain.

 

**_There is still hope for him. But you cannot help him on your own. I will lend you my power- and you lend me your body. Join me… and together… we can ease his suffering._ **

 

Shmi took a deep breath, a shaky exhale. Then another. And another.

 

“... What do you need me to do.” Shmi asked, her own anger rising inside.

 

The beast smiled, the skull opening in a laugh. 

 

Outside, Anakin Skywalker mourned his mother, cradling a foreign body in his arms. He walked back to the Lars house, helped buried the body, cried with Padme Amidala. A seed of darkness was planted in his heart that night. A seed that would grow, would fester and boil as time went on. 

 

But Shmi Skywalker was not dead. She was alive… and for the first time in her life, she was free.


	2. A Purpose

Shmi has been travelling with the beast for a month. For a month, she would wake up in a cave, the beast would give her food and water, eating whatever it had scavenged from the desert. Sometimes it was a rotting carcass of some kind of animal. Other times it was a few different body parts, torn to shreds, some with single blaster shots, others, victims from the heat.

 

She did not speak to the beast after That Night. The night she “died”. The beast didn’t say anything about it, falling asleep soon after it’s own meal, seemingly not worried about Shmi running away.

 

The thought crossed her mind. But something stopped her. At first it was the food. Then it was the water. When Anakin had shown up, had killed-  _ No. _ Shmi shut her eyes, but the images were seared into her mind. Her son, fully grown, using a weapon that was meant for peace, using it for slaughter. The echo of his broken cry. Shmi felt the tears coming, staining her face. A month of travelling with this beast. A month since she saw her son, even if it was from a distance.

 

Shmi didn’t know what was worse: That Anakin hadn’t realized that whatever was in the hut wasn’t his mother, or that he had gone into such a terrible rage from the deceit. Her Ani, the boy who wanted to help no matter what… a killer.

 

**_Little Seed._ **

 

The beast was looking up at the stars, head resting on it’s bone claws. Shmi curled into herself, trying to hide in her ruined skirts.

 

**_Little Seed. Peace is a lie._ **

 

“You’re wrong.” She choked out, tears flowing down her face.

 

**_Peacekeepers… They are never at Peace. In order to bring Peace, they must go to War. Can you feel it? The Galaxy… it is at war again._ **

 

“Stop calling me that.” Shmi snapped, hiding her face in her clothes.

 

**_Then give me a name to call you, Little Seed._ **

 

Shmi cried, loud and gasping, the wave of sadness hitting her once more. She did not see the beast close its eyes, the fur that was starting to wilt become vibrant in color. The skull lifted up, the curved tusks scraping on the rock.

 

**_Then give me a name instead. And I shall grant you a new one as well._ **

 

Shmi didn’t stop crying, much to the annoyance of the Sith. It shifted it’s form down, making it smaller, the tusks curving back into its skull, black smoke curling around the ground. It had become the size of a Lothal Wolf, red mane tapered off, black leather skin smoking. Shmi felt an oil slick tongue licking at her hands. Red and yellow eyes stared back at her. It sat in front of her, like the dog it was mimicking.

 

“I can’t give you a name. Surely you have a name already?”

 

**_I have had many names, many titles. All once meant something, but they are worthless now. I require a name, a purpose… I am yours to command, Little Seed. Give me a name, and I shall go by it. In exchange, I will name you, and you will answer to it._ **

 

“And what if you don’t like the name I choose?”

 

**_I will tell you._ **

 

“... And if I don’t like the name you choose?”

 

**_Then you will tell me._ **

 

Shmi wiped some of the tears away, taking in the beast’s newest form. It had never shrunk this small before- it was still large, massive compared to other dogs Shmi had seen. But it didn’t fill the cave, didn’t have wings, horns and curved tusks significantly smaller, not nearly as intimidating as before.

 

“Humor me. What was your title before?”

 

The beast sighed, walking around Shmi, she felt the skull nudge her up, walking the two of them outside. It did not speak until they were outside, looking at the stars. In the middle of the desert, even the dullest system could be seen. Shmi had no idea where her old home was, the one before Tatooine… but she knew where Coruscant was- where Anakin was.

 

**_I have been called many things._ **

 

**_Chaos._ **

 

**_Creator and Destroyer of Worlds, the Forgotten One, the Fallen Warrior._ **

 

**_War._ **

 

**_Malevolence, Darkness, Chosen Disciple._ **

 

**_I was fond of Sith’ari, but it no longer hold meaning._ **

 

**_Boga is perhaps the oldest of them all… Abeloth a close second._ **

 

**_I have even been called Death._ **

 

**_I have had many names as well._ **

 

“Like what?” Shmi stroked the red mane, tears drying as she watched a comet streak across the sky.

 

Suddenly her head was filled with a thousand voices, each calling out a name. Some were done in victory, others in deep sorrow. Children and adults, young and old, healthy and sick. She felt them all cry out, speaking their names at once. The pain was unbearable, Shmi tried to block out the sound, but no matter how much she tried, they grew louder and louder, each repeating their name back at her.

 

“Stop! Please, make it stop!” She cried.

 

Silence. The desert was hush, no wind stirred. Shmi was panting, realized she had fallen to her knees, the beast sitting next to her, still looking up at the stars. She got up on shaky legs, using her savior as leverage. It did not move, still staring up at the night sky.

 

**_Those are the names of the past._ **

 

**_They mean nothing to me._ **

 

**_What will you call me, Little Seed?_ **

 

Shmi threw up, The Beast unmoving as it was struck by vomit. The woman leaned on the creature, heard in the distance a storm sweep across the sands. She did not know if it would bring winds or rain, but thunder rolled. The beast sighed, its shape morphing into something much larger.

 

The wolven shape grew, wings began to become solid as smoke shifted to feathers. The curved tusks and elongated fangs grew from the skull, charred at the edges with cracks of fire that mimicked the Sith eyes in color. The red mane remained around its neck, a line of the fur down the spine- no tail at the end, but hind legs built for taking a stand. Only its front legs and face remained clean of muscle and skin, the bones white as the midday suns. The creature shook its body, stretching out, wings fluttering once, twice, three times before resting next to it’s starved body. Shmi once stood at The Beast’s shoulder, but now she was barely able to reach it’s elbow.

 

She tried to dry her eyes, the pain from hearing all those voices a dull throb in her skull. The creature picked her up, bringing her to its neck. As she leaned into the fur, grabbing hold, they were off, moving across the sky. Shmi took a deep breath, the storm now far off in the distance. She felt weak, weaker than she had been a month ago when she was being tortured.

 

Dawn broke, the first sun peeking out of the horizon. Another cave, another day. Shmi staggered off the creature’s neck as it shifted in order to squeeze into the entrance. She was shaking, leaned against the cool stone and rested her eyes. When she opened them, it was staring at her, in the wolven shape once more. As the sun rose, the cave remain shrouded in black mist, the source of it staring at the woman from its skull face.

 

**_What will you call me, Little Seed?_ **

 

“What about-” Shmi coughed, trying to regain her strength back. “What about Krayt?”

 

**_Krayt… that is what the Sand People called out._ **

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

**_… What is a Krayt?_ **

 

“It’s… It’s a dragon. Of the sands. There are stories about them- most are not kind.”

 

**_Do you know any stories that are kind?_ **

 

Shmi felt herself laugh, despite her turmoil. She nodded her head, only to have the beast force her to relax, pushing it’s skull-head into her lap, leaning one side of its face into her hands. Shmi stroked the fur, the smoke that seemed to come from the beast now making a fog inside the cave. She could smell the Darkness, the Suffering a bitter aftertaste. After a month, it was… calming, in it’s own way.

 

“They say that Krayts come in two forms. The smaller one hunts Jawas, and carries a pearl inside it’s gut. But it’s the larger ones you have to look out for. When they rise from the sands, a storm begins.

 

“When a Krayt breaches the sands, it takes the desert with it, ripping the skin off of slavers in seconds. But if a slave wishes to find freedom, all they need to do is walk into the middle of a sandstorm. If they can make it past the sands, endure the heat of the day, a Krayt will take them far away… They can become free.”

 

**_So, you think you are free then?_ **

 

Shmi stopped stroking it’s mane, a cold shiver running down her spine. But a thousand whispers started to laugh in her mind, the beast nuzzling her hand once more.

 

**_That was a joke. I heard mortals like that sort of thing._ **

 

“That wasn’t very funny.” Shmi’s tone was harsh, she coughed again.

 

**_Hmm. Noted._ **

 

**_You are free, Little Seed._ **

 

**_I saved you from a terrible fate._ **

 

**_You endure horrendous pain and suffering- and now you are here._ **

 

**_Content, a belly full of food, a skin filled with water at all times._ **

 

**_And me, to protect you._ **

 

**_Krayt… I like that name._ **

 

“... I’m glad.” Shmi ruffled the red mane, watched as it seemed to shift, starlight coming off the blood red fur.

 

**_I have thought of a new name for you. Do you wish to hear?_ **

 

“Not yet.” Shmi said. “I’m tired, and- I’m just tired.”

 

**_Rest. I will watch over you until you wake again, Little Seed._ **

 

Shmi laid down, head resting in Krayt’s belly. The creature watched its mortal fell asleep before staring at the sunrise. 

 

* * *

 

Shmi woke up at dawn the next day, riding on top of Krayt’s back. The moment she stirred it shifted form- and Shmi found herself walking into a small town, an even smaller creature resting on her shoulders- red fur and a weasel skull, talons of oil and bone.

 

The town was not unlike the one that Cliegg brought water to market. There was a cantina, some hagglers on the side of the road, a junkyard- and a slave market. Krayt clicked their teeth, nudging Shmi towards a food stall. Shmi browsed, like the other early risers, searching but not looking. A weight found itself in her pocket.

 

**_Buy food for yourself- we are leaving this planet._ **

 

Shmi didn’t answer, but she felt her heart leap into her throat. She looked up at the haggler- the Besalisk smiled, lower arms putting down a crate of overripe fruit, upper arms exchanging coin with the merchant next to Shmi.

 

“Can I get you anything?”

 

**_Only you can hear me… Get the purple ones, they will last._ **

 

“J-Just the purple ones, please.”

 

“Sure, how many?”

 

**_All._ **

 

“I’m not sure…” Shmi slide her hand into the hidden pocket, felt the credits that weren’t there a moment ago. “How much are they?”

 

**_Get All! Our journey will be long, we need food!_ **

 

“Well the purple one’s are about ten credits a bushel, but I can give you a smuggler’s dozen for fifteen. You using Republic credits or Separatists units?”

 

“Separatists units? I’m sorry, I’ve been in the desert for a while- did something happen?”

 

“Well,” The besalisk laughs, waving Shmi to stand to the side as they served a head slave a crate. Shmi tried not to look them in the eye, an old habit. “War finally broke out, heard that the Jedi started it all over some Senator in a fighting coliseum. Poor bastards, but! Suppose it was bound to happen- peacekeepers siding with the Republic was only going to end poorly, Ma always said so.”

 

Shmi felt her heart beat faster with every word the besalisk spoke. She felt Krayt unwrap itself from her neck, tiny claws clinging to her sleeve as it dropped onto the fruit stand. Shmi snapped out of her daze when the weight on her shoulders was gone, looking down at Krayt sniffing and picking fruit for itself.

 

“Smart weasel, never seen one like it.” the besalisk smiled at Shmi. “Want the one’s it chooses?”

 

“Huh, oh. Yes, thank you- I’ll take a smuggler’s dozen.”

 

“Sure, sure, anything else?”

 

**_We need a ship, ask where we can steal one._ **

 

“I’m not going to do that.” Shmi whispered harshly, before addressing the haggler. “I’m looking for passage to get off planet, do you know if anyone needs a mechanic?”

 

“Mechanic? Oof, not sure- but Ol’ Mando might need a cook. Well… the last crew mate they had got, they died. But Mando likes the mother types, might hire you. Here, take this durian, it’s their favorite.”

 

**_No. We do not need a pilot. Just a ship._ **

 

Krayt jumped back onto Shmi’s arm, wrapping itself around her neck as she paid for the fruit. The haggler pointed towards the cantina, three ships sitting just outside of the junkyard fence. Some scavenger’s were waiting in line, hoping to get food for the parts they had collected. Shmi didn’t look, kept the bag of fruit and durian in her skirts, breaking one of the purple ones in half, letting Krayt eat one half on her shoulder. One bite left her mouth puckered, the tart flesh making her nose turn up.

 

“Are you sure this is good?” Shmi coughed, the fruit suddenly become a fire in her mouth.

 

**_Your body is strong, but it needs to become stronger. Strong enough so that you do not tire so easily when I share my power with you._ **

 

“Krayt… What are we doing here?”

 

**_We are leaving. I have a name. You need a purpose._ **

 

“I had a purpose. I had Anakin.”

 

Krayt laughs, the small weasel form clicking and chirping, the skull nuzzling the side of her cheek. Shmi finished the purple fruit as she walked into the cantina, hoping to find whoever this Mando was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not gonna be one of those "Consistent" Fics. So I apologize if you're expecting that- especially my older readers.


	3. The Mandalorian

The cantina was nearly deserted, a local drunk asleep in the corner with a drink in hand, the bartender doing his books from the other night. Shmi couldn’t see anyone else. She walked up to the counter, Krayt wrapping themselves around her neck, red fur and oil-slick skin somehow cool to the touch.

 

“Excuse me…” the bartender looked up at Shmi. “I’m looking for a pilot that goes by Mando?”

 

“Oh, uh yea. He’s in the corner over there.”

 

Shmi left a credit on the counter- standard custom for Tatooine. The bartender took it without looking. Krayt went limp as Shmi turned around. Mando, it turned out, was a Mandalorian. The beskar’gam was noticeable, even with the desert shawl that covered his chest, his helmet off and to his side… right next to the modified sniper blaster.

 

Shmi took a deep breath, first through her nose, then her mouth, walking over to stand next to him. He skirts were in tatters, no doubt the month of living off of whatever Krayt had found meant she looked more like a scavenger, rather than a moisture farmer.

 

He looked up, one hand on his pistol that was hidden underneath his table. Shmi pulled out the small durian, setting it down silently on the table, continuing to stand. The warrior looked down at the fruit, then back up at Shmi. Krayt didn’t move, continuing to play dead.

 

“What’s that?” he pointed at Krayt.

 

“I want to get off planet.” Shmi said.

 

“... You think this stinking fruit is gonna help you get on my ship?”

 

“I’m a mechanic.”

 

“You look like you take things apart more than you put them back together.”

 

“I’ve been in the desert for some time.”

 

“Why.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Yes,” Mando pulled out a knife as long as Shmi’s forearm, driving it straight into the durian. “Why.”

 

“... Looking for pearls.”

 

“Pearls.” he scoffed, tearing open the fruit with the hunting knife. “It’s the desert, not the kriffing ocean.”

 

“Krayt’s carry pearls in their bellies- the meat can feed an entire village if treated properly. It’s dangerous work but well worth it.”

 

The smell was disgusting. But after months of watching Krayt eating rotting corpses, there was nothing Shmi couldn’t handle. She sat down across from him, back straight, watching him eat the fruit. 

 

This was the first time she had ever seen a Mandalorian without his helmet on. He was old, probably a decade older than her- but Tatooine is unkind to people in more ways than one. Mandalore must be different- instead of cracked skin from sun and heat, a patchwork of scars riddled his face. A right eye that had been replaced with a prosthetic, the lens focusing and refocusing on Shmi. The small camera inside the pupil would switch, no doubt trying to see if she was carrying weapons. His eyelid twitches every time he did this, but his upper lid was synthetic, the translucent skin showing blood vessels and machinery. 

 

And his armour- it wasn’t cared for like the bounty hunters in Jabba’s Palace. It was damaged, but she saw the yellow colors underneath, the helmet had some kind of bird designed onto it. The broken pauldron patched together several times over- what was seen underneath his poncho was broken and re-attached. Perhaps by design? 

 

_ No… _ no Mandalorians were proud. Their weapons were their lives, their armour their identity. This Mando was disgraced, an outcast.

 

**_Eat the fruit we bought._ **

 

Shmi pulled out the purple fruit from before, breaking it in half. The Mando paused, the slice of durian on his knife halfway in his mouth. Shmi rested one half of the purple fruit in the middle of the table, bringing the other half to her mouth, slurping the juice and flesh loudly. Bitter tart flesh, coupled with the spicy juice- but she kept a straight face as best as she could, staring back at the fighter.

 

A small smile started to form on his face, the mangled skin stretching oddly on his cheeks. He ate the rest of his slice, cutting out a new one, offering it Shmi on the edge of his knife. Krayt jumped onto the knife, moving like black mist before curling they’re weasel form around the other half of the purple fruit.

 

“... I’m guessing you never did find those pearls then.” the Mando hadn’t flinched when Krayt had moved, but now his focus was on the creature that was currently tearing into both pieces of fruit.

 

“I call it Krayt.” Shmi said.

 

Krayt looked up, red fur slick from juice. Yellow eyes narrowed, the skull face chittering at Shmi before going back to eating it’s stolen prize.

 

“Krayt.” the Mando nodded. “And you?”

 

**_Lie._ **

 

“Just a mother looking for her child.”

 

“And where is your child, exactly?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“When were they taken?”

 

“He was nine. He should be twenty now.”

 

“A boy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“... What’s his name.”

 

“Ani. His name was Ani.”

 

“Who took him?”

 

“The Jedi.”

 

The Mando takes a deep breath, working his jaw. He closed his eyes, the upper lid on his right not blocking out the camera-eye. One gloved hand came up, the vambrace had a modified dart thrower and holo shield on it. They were poorly slapped together. He ran his hand through the salt and pepper scruff on his face, scratching at his buzzed hair.

 

“I can’t help you with that.”

 

“I’m not hiring you to find my son. I just want to get off planet- I can work as a mechanic, I can sew and cook.”

 

“Thanks for the fruit but I’ll pass.” He started to get up. “I don’t need a mechan-”

 

“That crossbow is going to explode the next time you fire it.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

She saw a blood vessel jumping in his temple. Krayt had finished eating, slowly walking over to the opened durian that still had a knife through it. Shmi brought up one hand, palm open.

 

“May I?”

 

The Mandalorian paused, but pulled out his knife, Krayt playing the part of a scavenger, hissing at the knife, running back up Shmi’s arm, coiling itself around her neck. Shmi had the vambrace placed into her offered hand, the Mandalorian staring at her, caution written across his face.

 

She pulled out the energy connector from the holo shield and crossbolt energizer. Turning the firing mechanic to the inside of his forearm, the holo shield moved further up, closer to his elbow. Reattaching the holo shield to the primary power source, and then pulling the attachment cord down from the pauldron in order to connect it to the modified crossbow. There were two small attachments already on his sleeve, so she hooked the excess wire there.

 

“I can fix most things.” Shmi said. “My son was better at this than I am- but he learned the basics from me.”

 

“... Most people are afraid to fix a Mandalorian’s armour.”

 

“I know Mandalorians. You are not one.”

 

**_Well done, Little Seed._ **

 

The Mando sat back down, leaning on the booth.

 

“The name is Wren.” he finally said.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Wren.”

 

“If you come with me, I don’t travel in Republic space.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“I get shot at. A lot.”

 

“I know how to hide.”

 

“I have enemies.”

 

“I don’t have many friends that are alive.”

 

“People say I’m an ass.”

 

“People call me stubborn.”

 

“I am a Mandalorian. Just not a new one. Or a true one if that bothers you too.”

 

“I was freed only a few years back. There are some that still consider me a slave.”

 

“You’ll be paid.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It won’t be easy.”

 

“Nothing ever is.”

 

Wren smiled, nodding his head slowly.

 

“I have a daughter who’s a True Mandalorian.”

 

“My son is a Jedi.”

 

“So I guess we’re not exactly allies.”

 

“Our children do not define us.” Shmi said.

 

He paused, Krayt uncurling themself from her neck, walking down her sleeves down to the durian. Wren stared at Shmi, his expression unreadable. The helmet was put on, the yellow and chrome staring back at her.

 

“We leave in an hour. I’ll show you to your quarters.”

 

Krayt was able to sneak a piece of durian away, bringing the stinking fruit up to Shmi’s neck, nudging her lip. Shmi took the offered piece between her fingers, taking a bite before offering the rest to Krayt.

 

**_What does it taste like?_ **

 

It tastes like cake, she thinks.

 

**_Funny how something so foul can be so good, isn’t it?_ **

 

Shmi looked at Wren’s back, the sniper blaster slung over one shoulder. She smiled, following him out of the cantina.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... It's been a while huh? Yea... Soz about that lol


	4. Lost Boy

Wren’s ship was a smuggler’s ship. Shmi had her own room and a fresher, but when Wren first showed it to her, it was obvious that it was used as a catch all closet for whatever half used box he needed to get to.

 

The first week in hyperspace was… duller than she expected. The fruit she had bought went rotten but Krayt ended up eating it all once it did. Wren would land on some mud ball or waystation, tell Shmi to stay on the ship, and return with a bounty or some cargo that needed to be transported. They never spoke, and they ate in silence.

 

So Shmi did what was normal for her- she cleaned and repaired to keep busy. The first thing to do was her own room, sorting through half empty crates and organizing it in the living quarters. Then came the living quarters themselves, blasters and parts scattered across every horizontal space. 

 

Wren raised an eyebrow when he came back one night from whatever it was he did, only to find the metal pegboard now held his working weapons, the work table underneath clean and the drawers finally closed but full of spare parts. All he did was grunt, before going to his seperate rooms to leave Shmi alone.

 

The next week they spent some time in a trading hub. Wren wore his helmet out in public, but he took Shmi with him this time. They were shopping for ship parts and supplies. Krayt stayed on her shoulder, whispering to her about odd trinkets and baubles they wanted Shmi to steal; she didn’t, instead she would haggle for them. 

 

Wren said nothing while Shmi spoke quietly to the red and black weasel. The Mando paid for everything, sometimes not even letting Shmi try to haggle. She said nothing, but after a week of living with the man, she did not try to hide her annoyance. Shmi did spend some time wandering around the stalls, listening and not listening to conversations that were spoken here and there.

 

“... The Republic has been blockaded from the Outer Rim...”

 

“... I heard the Separatists have taken Raxus as their capital...”

 

“... Don’t be ridiculous,  _ of course _ the clones aren’t actually people- they were just designed by some deserters...”   
  


“... Naboo seems to be doing well, despite their Senator being what she is...”

 

“... I heard Geonosis is rebelling against the occupation- and winning...”

 

**_How frivolous._** Krayt spoke, clicking on her shoulder. **_They can’t see the big picture._**

 

“And what would be the big picture then?” Shmi whispered, looking at used engine cogs.

 

**_Someone is controlling this war- from the very beginning._ **

 

**_Why else would the clones have been made so quickly?_ **

 

**_Who else would have staged a coup so swiftly?_ **

 

**_The Jedi are no longer Peacekeepers._ **

 

**_The Sith have an empire of oil and steel._ **

 

**_This war reeks of Order and Control._ **

 

**_I hate it._ **

 

“And I suppose you would do something different then?” Shmi did not hide her amusement.

 

**_Of course!_ **

 

**_Chaos brings Passion!_ **

 

**_Through Passion, we gain Strength!_ **

 

**_But there is no passion in this war- someone is wanting the Galaxy to grow weak…_ **

 

“Skywalker.” Wren grunted, the filters in his mask making his voice gruffer than it already was. “We’re being followed.”

 

A cold sweat started to break down her spine. She paused, before picking up two cogs, smiling at the seller. She haggled while Wren was distracted, getting the two cogs and slipping them into her pocket before moving on.

 

“How many?” She asked

 

“Two, one’s a sniper.”

 

“Should we split up?”

 

“No, it’s a training exercise; not sure for whom though.”

 

**_We can kill them. A Test._ **

 

“We’re not killing anyone.” Shmi snapped.

 

“... Is that for me or for your pet?” Wren asked. There was some annoyance in his voice.

 

“I’m sorry, Wren. You must think I'm crazy.”

 

“You’re a mother.” Wren took one step back, following Shmi now. “Most mothers are a little insane.”

 

**_Most mothers do not have me._ ** Krayt’s claws pricked her shoulders through the fabric.  **_Go to the alleyway- We can deal with them._ **

 

“What about the alley? Two streets up?”

 

“It’ll be a trap.”

 

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

 

“... Do you have a blaster?”

 

**_There’s no need for such foolish weapons, not when I can kill them._ **

 

“I want to talk to them first. If things go south, I’ll run back to the ship. But promise me you won’t kill anyone.”

 

“... Fine. We’ll do it your way first. But take this.”

 

She felt him brush against her, slipping a small blaster into her pocket, letting his hand rest on the small of her back. The poncho covered up his movement. Krayt hissed at Wren’s helmet but did nothing else.

 

_Krayt, promise me you won’t kill anyone._ Shmi thought.

 

**_I will promise no such thing! But… I will try to be gentle._ **

 

_ Thank you. _

 

Shmi turned the corner, walking away from Wren. He followed, one hand moving to the sniper blaster on his back, turning on the weapon and setting it to stun. Shmi walked halfway down the alleyway and stopped. Krayt sniffed the air, their head snapping up, yellow and red eyes narrowing.

 

**_A woman and a young man- it’s not her own though._ **

 

**_The woman will jump down but the boy will go behind the Mando._ **

 

**_She won’t listen… but the young man might._ **

 

“You can come out now.” Shmi spoke up.

 

Just as Krayt had said, a Palliduvan woman jumped down from the rooftop, ash skin and one long red ponytail. Shmi recognized the implant antenna in her scalp, the orange jumpsuit and leather vest; worn and well used. Krayt disappeared into Shmi’s clothes; she felt the cold sensation of Krayt in her skirts, growing larger, wisps of smoke escaping.

 

**_I won’t let her hurt you, Little Seed._ **

 

Wren shifted, but a blaster was already cocked, a child’s voice speaking up.

 

“Don’t move!”

 

_ It’s just a boy. _ Shmi didn’t look behind her but she knew that voice. A child who was hardened, a boy who can’t be older than ten. The same age as Anakin was when he went with that Jedi. 

 

Something dark festered inside her heart.

 

“Thought I told you to stay away from Aargau, Old Wren.” the woman called out

 

“Sing. Find another brat to steal from?” Wren snipped back

 

“Shut up Old Man!” the young boy was angry.

 

“Who’s the hag?” Sing laughed, mocking the two of them. “Got tired of using your hand?”

 

“I have a name.” Shmi spoke up, keeping her voice even. “I’m called Shmi- and you are?”

 

“Aurra Sing,” the woman gave a mock bow, using her sniper blaster as a gentleman's cane. “How do you do?”

 

“Aurra Sing.” Shmi gave a proper bow, pausing for a moment before standing up. “Please stand down. I do not want you or the boy to get hurt.”

 

“HA! Where did you pick her up from?”

 

“Boy, I don’t know why you’re with that woman but you should go home. Run back to your parents.” Wren ignored the taunt from Sing.

 

“Oh don’t go soft now, Wren. He’s one of your own- a lost boy.” Aurra looked back at Shmi. “How much is he paying you? Can’t be all that good.”

 

“Stand down, please.” Shmi spoke again. “I do not want you to get hurt.”

 

Aurra laughed again, picking up her blaster. Wren took a step back, pressing himself against Shmi.

 

“Got a last name, Shmi?” Aurra sneered

 

“I do. It is Skywalker.”

 

The bounty hunter flinches.

 

“What the hell did you just say?”

 

“Please step down.” Shmi said again. “I do not want you to get hurt.”

 

“Skywalker, what the hell are you doing?” Wren whispered.

 

“Trust me.” She whispered back. “When Krayt comes out, grab the boy and get on the rooftop. Do not hurt him, please.”

 

“What the fuck is your weasel going to do?”

 

“Trust me. Please.”

 

Wren let out a heavy sigh, but she felt him nod. The darkness inside Shmi’s heart was growing, nearly as large as Krayt was underneath her skirts.

 

“Aurra Sing,” Shmi spoke louder. “Stand down, and you can walk away free. I do not want to see you get hurt.”

 

“Are you nuts? Boba, kill them both!”

 

Shmi felt Krayt shoot out, black smoke and oil growing before her eyes, red mangled fur becoming a mane, like it had in the desert. Shmi turned around in time to see Wren take the blaster shot from the young boy, firing two stun shots at the boy at the same time. The Mando picked him up before he dropped to the ground, the jetpack underneath his poncho igniting, landing on the rooftop that Aurra Sing had fallen from.

 

She turned her attention back to the darkness that consumed the alleyway, no noise escaping the mist that she knew was Krayt. But she could feel it. The anger and hatred she held for the woman, for using such a young boy in her plans. Shmi took a deep breath, tried to center herself. 

 

And stepped into the mist.

  
  


Aurra Sing was firing at Krayt, red blaster bolts hitting the growing beast. But the skull did not show any damage, the tusks growing from its upper molars, cracking through the lower jaw until they curved forward. The red fur that was mangled and unkempt became brighter, sunbursts inside the mane. Shmi put a hand on Krayt’s side, felt the onslaught of a thousand voices in her mind. She wanted to throw up- but instead she reached forward, tried to focus on one voice.

 

**_Let me kill her._ ** Krayt’s voice was echoing off the mist, but Shmi did not speak.

 

_ No. Don’t kill her.  _ She thinks. It’s getting hard to breathe in here.

 

**_Then a warning. To never mess with us again._ **

 

_ Gentle, you promised me. _

 

**_You are weak, Little Seed. We can do so much more!_ **

 

_ You promised. _

 

**_… Fine!_ **

 

Aurra was screaming, not used to madness that this dark fog caused. Krayt growled low, walking forward, the shadows growing larger, the mist being pushed out its body, larger still. Krayt shook their head, red fur sparking with lightning as it did so, stalking forward. 

 

One skeletal claw came up and swatted at the blaster as it jammed. The weapon broke into three pieces, hitting the far wall. Aurra fell down, tried to pull out a different blaster from her belt- only for Krayt to bring the same paw down on her chest, tusks scraping the ground as they snapped their jaws inches from the bounty hunter’s face.

 

Aurra was trying to scream, but no sound came out. On unsteady legs, Shmi walked forward, using one hand on Krayt, walking towards the bounty hunter. Krayt remained in place, Sith eyes staring at Aurra. Shmi used the curved tusk to get down on her knees, slowly but surely unclipping the bounty hunter’s weapons, until she was in nothing but the orange jumpsuit. The shadows were suffocating, the fog growing thicker around her. Shmi began to speak, her voice reverberating from the shadows.

 

**“You flinched when I told you my last name. So you must know who my son is. I would like to think my son does not do business with people who use children for their own gain… but I am not naive enough to truly believe that.**

 

**“This war will tear the Galaxy apart, and all I want is to see my Ani again. I do not care about the Jedi. Or the Sith. But what I do care about, is that every child gets a chance. I will be taking the boy with me. If you come after us, I cannot guarantee that we will not kill you.”**

 

“W-W-What the hell are you!?” Aurra sobbed, unable to move.

 

**“I told you. My name is Shmi Skywalker. I am just a mother, looking for her son. Do not follow us. If you do, you will die.”**

 

Shmi took out the two cogs she bought earlier, resting them on Aurra’s chest. Krayt growled one last time, lifting their paw up and stepping back, black fog and coldness slowly leaving the alleyway. Shmi closed her eyes, opening them again to find herself on the rooftop with Wren and the unconscious boy.

 

“Is he going to be alright?” Shmi fell to her knees, feeling for a pulse. “Is he hurt?”

 

“What. The kriff. Was that?” Wren’s helmet was off, the mechanic eye focused on her. “What did you just do?”

 

“We can’t stay here- we need to get back to the ship.” Shmi spoke. “Help me carry him.”

 

“... Fine. But I want answers.”


	5. More Questions Than Answers

Boba Fett woke up on a cot in a smuggler’s ship. His father’s book and twin blasters were next to him, along with his clothes, clean and pressed. He looked down, saw that he was in some oversized work shirt that had oil stain that had refused to be cleaned out of it. The room was small. And plain. His shoes were next to the door.

 

_ Okay this is weird. _ He got up from the cot, getting back into his clothes.  _ That hag and Mando were right in front of me… and now I’m somewhere else. _

 

The ship was moving, he could tell that much from the groan of pipes and metal.  _ Did… Did they kill Aurra? _ The door opened, the older woman from before standing there with a tray.

 

“Oh good, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” She smiled, putting the tray down on the small table in the room, taking the only seat. 

 

Boba drew one of his father’s blasters, aiming it at the woman. She didn’t flinch. Movement, then a red and black head popped out from her scarf. It was… a weasel? She smiled, one hand coming up to the rodent. It slinked down, nibbling at her fingertips- fangs. Double incisors and and a set of nubs on it’s skull. It looked diseased, the white fur on its face and forepaws greasy- wait.  _ That’s bone. What kind of fucking weasel is this? _

 

“It’s alright Boba, no one is going to hurt you.”

 

“How do you know my name?”

 

“Aurra Sing said it, remember?”

 

“... Oh.” Boba lowered his weapon. “W-Who are you?”

 

The woman pauses, looking at the weird rodent that was in her lap. She smiled, looking back up at Boba.

 

“Just a mother.”

 

“... Where’s your kid?”

 

“He’s- I’m trying to find him.”

 

“Is that why you’re with Old Wren?”

 

“Yes, that’s correct. Are you hungry?”

 

“No.” His stomach growled at that moment.

 

“... I don’t like eating alone. Will you eat with me?”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“That’s fine, you don’t have to eat anything. But I would like the company.”

 

She handed him the bread from her tray, the weasel moving to sit at the corner of the desk. Boba paused, then put the blaster on the bed, taking the offered bread. She smiled, picking up the smaller bowl on the tray and began to eat.

 

“... Can I have the stew?” Boba asked

 

“Of course.” She handed him the larger bowl. “Here you go.”

 

The weasel kept looking back and forth between them. Boba stared right back at it. It’s eyes were… creepy. But familiar. In the way getting soaked to the bone just by stepping outside on Kamino was familiar. The creature cocked it’s head to the side, moving it’s lower jaw quickly, clacking it’s teeth at him.

 

“This is Krayt.” the woman spoke up. “They won’t hurt you.”

 

“... What is it?” Boba used the bread as a makeshift spoon.

 

“I’m not sure. I found them in the desert you see- sorry,  _ they _ found me in the desert.”

 

“Which desert?”

 

“Tatooine.”

 

“Is that where you’re from?”

 

“It’s where I lived, yes.”

 

“Where did you live before that?”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I was a slave.”

 

“Are you a slave now?”

 

“No, I was freed.”

 

“By Old Wren?”

 

“No, by Krayt.”

 

“A weasel freed you from slavery?” Boba snorted. “That’s rich.”

 

“It’s hard to explain.” Shmi brought the bowl to her lips, eating without the utensil on the tray.

 

“... Why are you answering my questions?”

 

“Because you’re curious.”

 

“But you’re not lying.”

 

“Why would I lie?”

 

“Because that’s what adults do.”

 

“... I’m sorry you think that Boba.” Shmi put the bowl down. The weasel raced to it, quickly dragging out a piece of meat to gnaw on.

 

“... You’re not a bounty hunter, are you?” Boba asked.

 

“No. I’m a mechanic for the ship.”

 

“I thought you said you were a mother.”

 

“I’m that too.”

 

“You can’t be both.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you can’t! My Dad-” Boba stopped himself, looking at the bowl in his hands.

 

The woman doesn’t do anything for a moment. Boba expects her to scoff, to tell him to get over it. That’s what Aurra would have done. Instead, she gets up and sits next to him. 

 

One hand slowly comes to take the bowl out of his hand, putting it down on the floor. The weasel stopped eating, staring at them both. A hand came to rest on his shoulder. The woman moved slowly, rubbing up and down his back.

 

She smelled like grease and earth. Warm, dry. The subdued brown on her dress must have helped her blend in on Tatooine. But here in this small room she was the warmest thing here; there was a pull here- one that he wasn’t used to. Boba jerked away, standing straight up. She didn’t flinch. Just… stayed sitting.

 

“... You’re different. From other adults.” Boba finally said.

 

“I noticed.” she waited for him.

 

“... I’m Boba. Boba Fett.” he stretched out his hand.

 

“Nice to meet you, Boba Fett. My name is Shmi, Shmi Skywalker.” She shook it.

 

“... Skywalker?”

 

“Yes, that’s right.”

 

“There’s a Jedi called Skywalker.”

 

“I know. He’s my son.”

 

“Skywalker is your son!?”

 

Shmi laughs, letting go of his hand.

 

“You’ve heard about my Ani?”

 

_ Ani? _

 

“Everyone’s heard of him.” Boba shrugged.

 

“Ah. Well, I don’t usually leave the ship.”

 

“Yeah I guessed that, this thing is a wreck, I can hear the pipes.”

 

“Do you know much about ship repair?”

 

“I read a bunch about it when I was little.”

 

“Then you can help me.”

 

“I need to get back to Aagrua though. Sing is-”

 

“You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

 

“Is she dead?”

 

“No, but she won’t bother you.”

 

“Why? Did Old Wren do something to her?”

 

“Not exactly. Krayt gave her a scare but she’s fine. Mostly.”

 

“Mostly?”

 

“Well her sniper blaster was destroyed.”

 

“... I can help with the ship, I guess. But I’m leaving the next time we stop for fuel.”

 

“That’s fine Boba, thank you for helping me.”

 

“Sure.”

 

* * *

 

Wren stole a glance at the mirror he placed to look at the cockpit door, saw Shmi come in. He waited until she was in the co-pilot seat. Krayt was nowhere to be seen… but he didn’t trust that little monster to not be somewhere close.

 

“How’s the kid?” he grunted.

 

“He’s fine, just resting now.” Shmi was always soft spoken.

 

“Hm.”

 

“He’s young.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“He says his name is Boba Fett.”

 

“...”

 

“He started talking about his father, but stopped.”

 

“...”

 

“I think his parents are dead, Wren.”

 

“The Fett Clan doesn’t exist.”

 

“What?”

 

“The Fett Clan.” Wren cleared his throat. “They were exiled. They used to be Mandalorians, but they didn’t pick a side and were all massacred. That would have happened long before that boy was born though.”

 

“... What about a bounty hunter named Jango Fett? I just remembered the name.”

 

“He’s like me.”

 

“How so?”

 

“He’s not Mandalorian.”

 

“... Do you think Boba is his son?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“What bastard would bring a kid in a world where he won’t have any standing with his people? That’s like a slave having a child- shit.”

 

“...”

 

“... I’m sorry.”

 

“... This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, did you know that?”

 

“... So?”

 

“Nothing, I just think it’s curious.”

 

“I’m gonna shut up now.”

 

“What if I’m right though?”

 

“What? About Jango Fett?”

 

“Yes. What if Boba is his son?”

 

“Doubt he’s legitimate.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“You know that the Republic is using clones, right?”

 

“Yes, I heard something about it in the market.”

 

“Jango Fett was the template.”

 

“... Was?”

 

“He died on Geonosis. Rumor has it, a Jedi took his head off.”

 

“That’s horrible.”

 

“I heard another rumor too. A certain Jedi apprentice with the name Skywalker was on Geonosis at the same time.”

 

“...”

 

“Pretty curious if you ask me.”

 

“... I hope Anakin didn’t kill him.”

 

“Won’t know until you can ask him. Unless that kid Boba saw Jango get killed.”

 

“I hope he didn’t. It’s a horrible thing to see someone die, especially if you care about them.”

 

“... The kid can’t stay.” Wren looked over at Shmi

 

“He offered to work on the ship with me.” She was staring straight out the window.

 

“I ain’t feeding him.” He grunted, going back to the controls.

 

“Wren.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“He’s just a boy.”

 

“A boy who was running around with Aurra kriffing Sing, of all people.”

 

“... I’ll feed him then.” Shmi sat up straighter in her chair.

 

“Fine. But he has to work.” Wren snorted.

 

“Of course.”

 

“You still haven’t explained what  _ That _ was. In the alleyway.”

 

“...”

 

“With Krayt.”

 

“I… I don’t know what that was.”

 

“Why don’t I believe you?”

 

“I’m telling the truth. One minute I was angry at that woman for using Boba and the next… It was so dark. And cold.”

 

“Krayt changed shape.”

 

“Yes, they can do that.”

 

“... That weasel is dangerous.”

 

“I can handle them.”

 

“You speak to it, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Does it speak back?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What does it say?”

 

“... I’m not sure. Sometimes Krayt will get protective, but- they keep going on about Chaos. And Suffering. I don’t know why, or for what reason.”

 

“When you asked me to not kill anyone… you were talking to Krayt, weren’t you?”

 

“I was talking to both of you.”

 

“Did Krayt listen?”

 

“They did.”

 

“Let’s hope it stays that way.”

 

Shmi nodded, taking a deep breath.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For not hurting Boba.”

 

“Yeah, well. Bastard may play at being a bounty hunter… but he is just a boy.”

 

Shmi smiled to herself. Wren ignored it, focused on the navigational system, checking to make sure they didn’t get sucked into a blackhole while he changed course. That was what he told himself at least.


	6. Broken Past

Darkness. 

 

For the longest time that was all Shmi dreamed of. 

 

The only time she ever dreamed was when she was pregnant with Anakin- then it was too bright. Anytime she closed her eyes, it was like being outside at Twin Noon. It had been burning, white hot heat and warmth that even after years of being on Tatooine was almost too much to bear.

 

But ever since Krayt, Shmi would dream. 

 

It was cold. 

 

It was filth and Despair, clinging to her skin, thousands of hands, a million voices crying out. At first it horrified her; the first month she refused to sleep until she collapsed in the caves, leaning on Krayt’s body. 

 

Then it was common place. Just like beatings had once been commonplace. Just like starvation and heat stress and the ever present fear of being sold back to the Hutts had become commonplace.

 

But this dream… This dream was different.

 

She woke up to the smell of the ocean. She sat up in a small cot, looked down at her hands and feet.  _ I’m… a child? _ The waves crashed outside of her open window, local fauna crying out for morning light and first feeding. Shmi looked out and saw three hooded figures standing at the cliffs, the middle elderly one holding a straw basket with chum inside. For some reason, she knew the name of the creatures they were feeding: Porgs.

 

Shmi got up, her body moving without her needing to think about it. A plain sleeping tunic replaced with heavy and scratchy fabric, worn leather and grass knot belt keeping the fabric close to her body, feet covered in simple socks that lacked toes or a heel. She gazed down at her hands and feet, saw that the nails would grow to be black at the tips, but had been filed down to look more like a human’s nails.  _ This isn’t my memory. _

 

**_No. It is mine._ ** Krayt’s voice echoed in her mind as there was a knock on the door. 

 

Shmi’s not-body looked over to sleeping form by a wall- a smaller body with a mop of dirty blonde hair was resting. The knock came again, along with a muffled voice. She moved, and the scenery changed.

 

She was inside a hollowed out living tree, the sound of waves surrounding her on all sides. She was sitting in the middle of a stone floor, a man in a brown hood sitting on a root stump high above her. She saw the hands- a Kel Dor. The rest of him was covered by the brown robe

 

“Concentrate, Young One.” his voice boomed, the sound of waves not stopping it from shaking Shmi to her core. “You are a Seer. Your duty is to predict.”

 

“I’m trying Master! I just…”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I keep seeing the nightmare!”

 

The walking cane was brought down on the root that the Kel-Dor was sitting on. The waves that had been in the middle of crashing on the rocks ceased, staying still in one place. The older Kel-Dor dropped down with grace, as if it was a single step and not ten meters up. He walked forward, leaning on the walking cane like he was pretending to be older than his age.

 

“Again?”

 

Shmi nodded, looking up to see the Kel-Dor. Milky white eyes that were filled with tears closed, the rudimentary breathing mask inhaling and exhaling audibly. It was not frightening to her, nor to the memory. White eyes opened again, looking down at her.

 

“Describe the nightmare… It could very well be the vision we are meant to receive.”

 

“There’s two of us, one of light, and one of darkness.” The body spoke, Shmi simply watching from inside. “We fight, constantly. We wait too, for someone of Balance, but he never comes. The Light grows dark, and the Darkness becomes content. Eventually, the Darkness that was once Light is killed by the Light that was once Darkness. 

 

“There’s a curse of some kind- It wasn’t meant to be this way, so the Light that was once Darkness is doomed to never join the Force. It repeats, over and over. 

 

“The Light continues to forget, and continues to be corrupted. The Darkness is always too late, never able to save the Light. It keeps happening, over and over and over… And it always starts with me and my brother!” 

 

The Kel-Dor waits for Shmi to stop before resting his hand on her head. When her hair is ruffled, she sees that is done in front braids held together with the same worn leather and grass knot as her belt. The color of the hair is blood red.

 

“Young One, do you know which of you is the Light and which is the Darkness?”

 

“No Master… It keeps changing.”

 

“Hmm… We will keep our eyes out. May The Force provide us with answers.”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“Come, it is time for your sword lessons. Wake your brother and my apprentice- you will be joining us this time.”

 

The memory fades, replaced with a coldness. The voices and Darkness stay at bay as a woman stands in front of Shmi. It was the same woman from her first dream with Krayt, before she was saved.

 

Blood red hair that was held back in a half ponytail, the rest braided in twin braids that rested on her shoulders, the hair covering her neck almost entirely. A fringe that was left alone, covering the right side of her face, but Sith eyes with blackened skin and blood vessels close to the surface. What she could see of the hands and feet were black and burning, smoke and ash falling from them… Silver shackles and a collar ever present.

 

“... Who are you?” Shmi asked.

 

The woman tilted her head. Long pointed ears peaked out from her blood red hair.

 

**_I am Krayt._ ** She spoke.  **_I have many faces, and many names… But you have given me this one._ **

 

“Whose memory was that? The one we just saw?”

 

**_It is mine._ **

 

“Is it your first memory? From your first life?”

 

**_I do not know. I am very old. And I am many. Are you saying it is not yours?_ **

 

“No… I don’t remember ever being born near the ocean.”

 

**_Interesting… You are indeed very special, Little Seed._ **

 

“My name is Shmi.”

 

**_… No. That is the name of a slave woman. You need a new name._ **

 

“Will you give me one then?” Shmi crossed her arms, felt the Darkness starting to cling to her ankles, pulling at her skirts. “I gave you the name Krayt, it only seems fair.”

 

**_… You must name yourself. Then, you will be free._ **

 

The woman melted in one place, the monstrous form from the sands rising in her place. The skeletal face with curved tusks and twisted horns. Fangs as long as her body, jagged and decaying while the rest of the skull was pearl white. The Darkness swirled upwards, covering its body in the oil slick leathery hide, red hair morphed into a feathered mane. Bony front legs ending in claws, the trunk shifting to stand up, only for a thousand stars to light up, the Darkness now hidden inside of it’s hulking form.

 

**_It’s time to wake up, Little Seed._ **

 

* * *

 

Shmi woke up suddenly, turning her head to the side. Krayt was a weasel again, staring right at her.

 

**_The others are still asleep. I’m hungry._ **

 

“Good morning to you too.” Shmi got up, looking down at her hands.

 

Sun spots and calluses, some of her fingers crooked from having them broken as punishment years ago. A stark contrast to the ones from the dream she just had. Krayt stretched their little paws, jumping to hang off of Shmi’s shoulders.

 

“Why did you show me that memory, Krayt?”

 

**_What memory?_ **

 

“... You don’t remember, do you?”

 

**_I’m hungry._ **

 

“You’re always hungry,” Shim smiles, slipping on her shoes before heading into the main living quarters.

 

Wren was half asleep, mechanical eye following her movements through the see-through eyelid as she went to cook breakfast. In the beginning she had tried to keep quiet, in order to not disturb the Mandalorian, but he hated it, pointing his rifle at her before realizing she was trying to be polite. 

 

Now she did not bother to stay quiet, but years of moving silently are hard to break.

 

Boba was slipping in a hammock above some crates, limbs this way and that like any other boy his age. Shmi smiles, saw the mop of black and brown hair shift when the light came on as he shifted in his sleep to turn over.

 

A flash of dirty blonde hair rose to her mind’s eye. First it was Anakin’s, the crack of dawn before they both went to work. The second was back in that dream, the same color hair, the same bright blue eyes… but tipped ears, and the smell of ocean that overtook the sands. A wave of protectiveness washed over her, a massive headache following shortly after.

 

**_What is wrong?_ **

 

_ I’m not sure… a memory? _

 

**_That’s stupid. Your life is so short, how can you have so many memories all at once?_ **

 

_ So you felt it too? _

 

**_I’m hungry! Cook faster so we can train!_ **

 

“You are so spoiled, Krayt.” Shmi lets out a heavy sigh, the pain in her head gone for now. “Can’t I hear a please?”

 

“Please stop talking to your weasel.” Wren grunts out. “It’s not right.”

 

“Good morning, Wren. Are you hungry?”

 

“Hmph.”

 

“I am.” Boba popped up, one arm and his head leaning out of the hammock. “Did you want help, Shmi?”

 

“That’s kind of you Boba. Hand me the spice will you?”

 

Boba rolled out of the hammock, landing in a half-crouch, half-squat before jumping up and grabbing the small spice container for Shmi. Boba leaned on the half-wall, watching as Shmi cooked roots and rations together, InstaCarbs rehydrating on a different burner. She heard Wren grunt as he got up, leaning his rifle next to his weapons closet, clearing the small table enough for all three of them to eat.

 

**_Convince the Mando to take the boy today. I want to be alone with you._ **

 

“Are you going hunting,  _ Ruug’la Jag _ ?”

 

“Yes,  _ Adik. _ You’re staying here.”

 

**_Maybe you won’t have to do anything then._ ** Krayt snickered, hopping over to Boba’s shoulder, only to scamper off and stand in the middle of the table, no doubt pissing off Wren.

 

“Why not? I’ve been hunting since I was seven.”

 

“That’s too young.”

 

“No it’s not. The clones are ten when they went to war.”

 

“That’s still too young.”

 

“Why do you care? They age faster anyways. It’s not like they’re Mando like me.”

 

“You’re not a Mandalorian,  _ Adiik _ .”

 

“You take that back!”

 

“I will not.”

 

“That’s enough, both of you.” Shmi spoke up.

 

Wren and Boba both looked at her. The old bounty hunter’s face was completely blank, but Boba's was twisted in anger. She took a deep breath before speaking up again.

 

“Wren, when you mean hunting, what is it that you are looking for.”

 

“... Bounties. On people.”

 

“Boba,” Shmi turned to face the boy. “Your father took you bounty hunting?”

 

“Yeah, that was his job. I was gonna take over one day.”

 

“... And the clones?” Shmi asked. “Do you mean- do you mean the clones who fight for the Republic?”

 

“I… yes.” Boba crossed his arms. “Why do you care?”

 

“... How old are they?” Shmi asked.

 

“I don’t know, they made a lot of them.”

 

“Would they be about your age?”

 

“Chronologically, sure. But, they did something to them. They age faster- and obey orders. Any order, really.”

 

Shmi felt her body grow cold. Wren noticed it, quietly getting up to stand next to Skywalker, one hand out just in case she fainted. Krayt’s head tilted to the side, staring at the scene from afar.

 

“Skywalker,” Wren said. “Are you okay?”

 

“... Be honest with me, Wren.” Shmi looked over at him. “Have you ever taken a bounty against one of these clones?”

 

“... Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“They went AWOL, ran away from the war or their general.”

 

“Did you bring them back alive?”

 

“... No. They’re trained soldiers but… they had a different plan than the one given to them.”

 

“Are you okay?” Boba took a step closer, worry starting to cross his face.

 

Shmi tried to take a step away from the kitchen. Then another. She fell to the ground, both Boba and Wren on either side of her. Krayt hopped off the table, walking over to her. The closer they got, the more whispers from the past few cycles entered her mind.

 

_ Damn Jedi and their clone soldiers… I heard a whole battalion was wiped out for no reason… don’t know how you can tell them apart, they all stay so quiet… I thought the Republic was against that kind of practice… it’s only a matter of time before those clones replace everyone in the service, loyal bootlickers… _

 

**_They’re just like you were._ ** Krayt’s voice rang out.  **_Is this where your passion lies? Is this how you can become stronger?_ **

 

“Skywalker, what’s wrong?” Wren had Shmi in his arms, shaking her slightly.

 

Boba looked over at the old bounty hunter, then back at Shmi. He didn’t like what he saw, the horror, the pain. The anger slowly took over her face. Shmi looked down at the weasel, her face harsh… just like his father’s once was.

 

“They’re just boys.” Shmi whispered. “They’re barely ten and- cowards. They should be given a choice- a chance!”

 

“Shmi.” Wren spoke up. “You need to lie down, you’re sick.”

 

“They should have a choice!” Shmi looked up at Wren. “They’re just kids! What about their mothers- their parents!”

 

“... Clones don’t have  _ Buirs _ . They just have generals.” Boba, helped Shmi off the ground, silently taking over for the bounty hunter.

 

Boba helped Shmi back into her quarters, unsure of what to do. He pulled a blanket over her body, sat in the only chair next to the woman. He was worried- after all, Shmi was the only reason he had stayed this long.

 

_ Anakin… _

 

**_The boy is a Jedi, is he not? He’s probably a general now, letting those boys die for him…_ ** Krayt’s laughter filled Shmi’s mind before she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /dabs/ Yeah.... this is gonna update irregularly y'all... Still trying to get my feet underneath me with moving back to the US and all that.
> 
> BUT HOW ABOUT THAT SHOW MANDALORIAN HUH?? BRUH, I LOVE IT A LOT


	7. Wren's Dream

Wren came back from his hunt to find Shmi sitting with a datapad. He said nothing, just unpacked and disassembled his weapons. He watched out of his Mecha-Eye as Shmi mouthed things under her breath. It was slow going.

 

“You seem to be doing better.” he grunts

 

“... Hm? Oh, yes, I am.”

 

“What are you reading?”

 

“Oh,” Shmi put down the datapad, letting out a heavy sigh. “I’m not. I… I don’t really know how to read.”

 

“You’re a mechanic.” Wren turned around, taking his helmet off. “And you can’t read?”

 

“I was learning,” Shmi gave him a smile.

 

The smile that reminded him of simpler times. Of a home with his family and-

 

“Whoever was teaching you was shit.” Wren grunts, going back to cleaning his blaster. “Where’s the boy?”

 

“In the engine room, he says that he has an idea for how to fix the twin battery for the guns.”

 

“And you let him?”

 

“Krayt is watching Boba.”

 

“Ah. So the weasel is watching the boy. That should go well.” Wren moved to the next blaster, glancing over at Shmi.

 

She was back to the datapad, didn’t even register his sarcasm. Wren paused. He sighed, putting his weapon down and watching Shmi. It took a good five minutes before she looked back up. He was drumming his fingers on the table.

 

“... What are you  _ trying _ to read.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m not very good at reading bedtime stories.” Shmi laughed, sun damage and laugh lines become more prominent from it. “If you want a fable however I’m more than happy to tell you one.”

 

“Skywalker…”

 

“Humor me,  _ Ruug’la Jag. _ ”

 

“Do you even know what that means?”

 

“Old man, I think.”

 

“Just-” Wren sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can you tell me what you’re reading,  _ please. _ ”

 

“There, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

 

“Hmph”

 

“I’m trying to read about you and Boba’s people, The Mandalorians. I know so little about his past, and even less about you… I thought it might help.”

 

“I’m not a Mandalorian. And neither is the boy.”

 

“I want to know why you say that too.”

 

“... Who was teaching you how to read?”

 

“My husband… he thinks I’m dead now.”

 

“Did he beat you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Was he a drunk?”

 

“He was a nice man, he freed me.”

 

“... Did he marry you after freeing you?”

 

“... Yes.”

 

“He didn’t free you.”

 

“He did… he was kind, you have to understand.”

 

“I do.” Wren looked at her. “But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the facts.”

 

“... I really should get back to reading this-”

 

Wren gently took the datapad from her. He noticed that the font was large, and in common. It was also a book not written by someone from Mandalore- it was from Coruscant.

 

“... This book is wrong.” he says, quiet enough for just her.

 

“Then perhaps you could teach me Mando’a, and I’ll read-”

 

“Mando’a is spoken, not written.”

 

“Oh.” Shmi blinked. “I… I had no idea, I’m so sorry.”

 

“Sorry?” Wren sat up, putting the datapad back down. “Why are you sorry?”

 

“I was always told that Mandalorians were conquerors, I didn’t… I had no idea you were… you were slaves too.”

 

Wren blinked. Then he blinked again. And then he started to laugh, the right side of his face scrunching up oddly from the burns and scars that riddled his face. When he finally stopped he looked back at Shmi, who was still confused.

 

“I’ll tell you what, Skywalker. You said you know fables, right? They’re slave fables, aren’t they?”

 

“Yes, they are.”

 

“A trade then.” Wren pushed the datapad back to her. “I’ll tell you about Mandalorians, if you tell me about slaves. Deal?”

 

“I’m afraid you might be mistaken,” and there was that smile again. “The fables aren’t a history, they’re just stories. Stories to warn children and new slaves what to watch for, what to do when a master is cruel or drunk or even if they die.”

 

“And Mando’s don’t have a history either.” Wren smiles back at her. “Mandalore the planet has a history. Mandalorian Houses have a history. Mandos do not. Clans do not. We have stories. We have ancestors, but we have no history. So we have no need to write it down.”

 

“If you want to learn Common, I could teach you.” Boba pipes up.

 

Wren jumps up, pointing his blaster at the boy. Krayt, the damn weasel, hissed before dropping off the boy’s shoulder and running to jump into Shmi’s lap. He scowled, putting the blaster down and sitting back in his seat.

 

Shmi smiled up at Boba, and Wren was once again reminded of a different time. Somewhere long ago, far, far away…

 

“Thank you, Boba. I’m not the best student, so I will apologize ahead of time.”

 

“It’s fine,” Boba shrugged, running a hand through shaggy hair. “Besides, gotta pay you back somehow, and since I can’t go hunting, teaching might be better.”

 

“And what about me?” Wren spoke up, “How you gonna pay me back?”

 

“ _ By not cutting your throat at night, Old Man.” _ Boba spoke in Mando’a.

 

_ “Watch your mouth around the woman, she is quick to tongues and quicker to forgive. I am not.” _

 

“Suit yourself,  _ Ruug’la Jag.” _ Boba moved towards his makeshift bunk.

 

When Wren looked over at Shmi, she was staring at the weasel. The Skull clicked and he could have sworn he had heard murmurs coming from it. Screams. Cries of pain. A child’s laugh that ends with a death choke.

 

He leaves, heading to his personal rooms, grabbing his helmet on the way.

 

* * *

 

Wren dreamed of Mandalore. Of his wife and daughter, all those years ago. But more importantly, of Adonai, in his throne room… before the war.

 

“ _ Dehr _ , you must be joking.”

 

“I am not,  _ nad'larha _ , we need a diplomat. Satine shows more promise than Bo Katan, so Satine will go.”

 

“But to Coruscant!?” Wren was younger, the scarring on his right side not yet there. “It’s filled with outsiders and infidels and, and-”

 

“And?”

 

“And Jedi! They are the enemy-  _ our _ enemy!”

 

Adonai stood up, beskar’gam reflecting the tinted duraglass and murals. He was older than Wren, perhaps by five years, blonde hair starting to thin a little with his long crooked nose making him look much, much older. More regal.

 

Adonai smiled, bright blue eyes soft as he put a hand on his advisor’s shoulder.

 

“I am not worried about the Jedi. Nor am I worried for Satine. She was trained by the best here on Mandalore, but… the galaxy is changing, my old friend. We must be prepared.”

 

“And what about Bo Katan? She spends more and more time with Clan Vizsla- are you not worried?”

 

“Vizsla is not a concern right now, there is no need to fear Wren- besides, are you not part of his house?”

 

“ _ Dehr… _ Please reconsider. I have heard talk about an uprising.”

 

“We are Mandalorians,” Adonai laughed, walking away from Wren. “There will talk about uprisings and war until we have finally killed ourselves off because of it! Come, I need your help in how to handle the Krownest…”

 

The dream ended the same way it always did. With Wren too far away from Adonai, watching as the former Duke died, the look of anger and betrayal etched across his face. Of Bo Katan screaming out as her father died, while Wren tried to pull her back, away from the carnage, away from certain death.

 

Of Pre Vizsla, so young and full of hatred and anger  as he stripped him of his rank, his name… of his home. Of the months that followed, hating himself, seeking death by fighting any drunk looking to take his money or weapons or even his boots off his feet.

 

But then… something changed.

 

He was looking at Shmi. In the middle of the desert, late at night. And she was alone. He tried to move, but found he couldn’t- he was stuck exactly where he was. He looked up as Shmi’s body began to move.

 

She raised her arms, higher and higher above her head, reaching for something. Then the sand beneath his feet began to swirl and rise as well. A thousand stars blocked out, a sandstorm with the two of them in the center of the eye.

 

Lightning flashed, red and black, a coldness seeping deeper into his bones. The murmurs he had heard coming from Krayt began to appear, louder and louder, until it was a battlefield filled with maniacs and innocents, all laughing and crying and screaming together.

 

And that’s when he heard Krayt begin to speak.

 

**_Repeat the code, Little Seed._ **

 

**_“Peace is a lie, there is only passion.”_** Shmi spoke, face turned upwards. ** _“Through passion, I gain strength._**

 

**_“Through strength, I gain power._ **

 

**_“Through power, I gain victory._ **

 

**_“Through victory, my chains are broken._ **

 

**_“The Force shall free me.”_ **

 

Shmi’s eyes opened- they were not brown. They did not have the warmth and maternal care that Wren had come to know and watch from afar. They were black and red and yellow. They were cold… so incredibly harsh and cold.

 

Lightning struck inches from Wren’s face as the voices grew louder and louder. And then thunder. Wren blinked, opening his eyes again- and saw Krayt’s true form. The massive rotting corpse, black leather covered in oil and scars, wings made of leather and feathers, bone claws that were charred from the inside.

 

And the skull.

 

The skull of a Mythosaur, with the horns of a Greater Krayt Dragon.

 

He tried to call out, but no words came from his mouth. The wings of the monster began to mirror Shmi’s own arms. There was a darkness that began to take the edges of his vision, but he watched as Shmi’s hair began to come undone, the long brown and grey swirling around her in the storm.

 

Shmi brought her arms down, screaming the entire time. And the monster behind her roared, shaking the galaxy from its power. 

 

And then he woke up.

 

* * *

 

He was alone in his rooms. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, and coughed… his hand came back with sand and blood. Wren knew what Shmi had told him of her son, and considering that her last name was Skywalker…

 

He got out of bed, threw on his chest piece over his sleepwear, nearly falling over trying to get his combat boots on as well. He walked out, marching over to the woman’s door, banging on it with his blaster in hand.

 

She opened the door a moment later, her hair down and a long work shirt on.

 

“Wren?” she asked, “Is something wrong? You look… you look terrible.”

 

He opened his mouth, but then stopped. She cocked her head to the side.

 

“... Oh. I understand.” Shmi bowed her head, opening the door more and stepping to the side. “You’re in need.”

 

“... What?”

 

“You’re in need.” Shmi did not raise her head, “I’m here to serve- that’s my duty, after all.”

 

_ That _ didn’t sit well with the bounty hunter at all. He lowered the gun, but stayed right where he was.

 

“Is that what your husband would do?” he whispers.

 

“... he was a kind man.”

 

“And if you said no?”

 

“I never said no.”

 

“Did you want to?”

 

“... He was kind, you have to understand.”

 

Wren’s grip on his weapon grew tighter. Shmi still had her head down. Boba was wide awake, watching with bated breath, his own hand on his father’s blaster. Wren then moved, one arm stretched out.

 

Shmi glanced up- it was just his blaster in her room, resting on a single finger.

 

“I… heard something while I was sleeping.” Wren starts. “I know your little weasel likes to run around but- take this. Just in case.”

 

Shmi smiles. Wren can’t look at her directly, just stares straight ahead into her room. That’s when he sees it-  _ the fucking weasel _ . It was staring right at him, standing up right on the bed, hair raised and teeth bared. He remembers the massive form from his nightmare. Somehow it makes the little rodent all the more terrifying to him.

 

Shmi takes the blaster, bowing her head.

 

“Thank you, Wren.”

 

“Hmph.” he turns on his heel, heading back to his rooms without another word.

 

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night, the image from his nightmare seared into his mind’s eye.

 

The image of Shmi Skywalker as a Sith Lord.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all guess what? I've actually got most of the next chapter written up! I'll post it next week and (hopefully) I'll have a more consistent update schedule for this story... muse willing.
> 
> For those who don't know who tf Adonai (or the Mando'a that's spoken) means, just leave a comment and I'll try not to info dump lol.
> 
> I say this b/c I know some are gonna be from BNHA but just like my writing so like,,, yea


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